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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930291">The Quiet Stranger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/violettaren/pseuds/violettaren'>violettaren</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cute, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Monsters, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Reader-Insert, Romance, how the hell do i use double space on this website</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:55:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930291</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/violettaren/pseuds/violettaren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You live a quiet life in the forest with your mother after the fall of Cintra, selling grains and produce to keep enough coins for survival. When your mother leaves for a long journey to the market, you're surprised to meet a white-haired stranger in dire need of help, and even more surprised by how you feel about him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Roach, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Loud Horse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your back is aching.<br/>
You turn over on your poorly constructed wooden bed to see your mother opening the curtains to your shack, letting the bright light of the morning shine into your eyes. You groan and let your head fall back onto the cheap fabric that works as a makeshift pillow.<br/>
“Get up urgently, young one. We’ve much to do before I leave for the market” your mother says as she gathers various tools from the main table in your home. Well, home is generous. Nilfgaard had taken your home in Cintra many years ago during the war, robbing you and your mother of your father, your home, your livelihood. You were so young that any memory of Cintra escapes you, but you see it on your mother’s eyes every time she looks out onto the large acre of land you two now occupy deep in the forest, alone. This isn’t where she’s meant to be.<br/>
It’s this thought that forces you out of bed to help your mother gather the grains and berries you grow in your garden to sell in the town miles over every few months. The coins your mother makes isn’t much, not nearly as much as your father made in Cintra, but it’s enough to keep you alive. Enough to allow you to stay home while your mother is gone for many weeks and study the books your father left behind.<br/>
“I’d appreciate it if you actually put the grains in the bag,” your mother grins at you, looking down at the empty rucksack that should be full of the tall brown plants cascading across the field. You drop your head and apologize, quickly feeling around to see which are ready to be picked. You feel your mother’s hand on your shoulder, forcing your gaze up to see her expression.<br/>
“I was only kidding, dear. What has you so disquieted?” her voice was soft and plush, enveloping around you like a warm cotton blanket. Christ, you were going to miss her.<br/>
“I wish you didn’t have to leave, Mother. At least not for so long.” You sighed, pressing the pads of your fingers into your hands. “I feel so lonely here, all I can do is tend to the garden and read Father’s books. Can I come with you, just this once?”<br/>
You already knew the answer, but it didn’t hurt to try.<br/>
“Now, dear, you know it’s much too dangerous for you to leave here,” her voice stopped as she took in a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a sad smile.<br/>
“I’ve lost- I’ve lost too much to take the chance. I’m sorry. And with Lav’s sickness, the journey will take even longer since I must go on foot. You have to understand.”<br/>
Lav was your family horse who’d been with you for many years, but her age was starting to catch up with her. She could barely walk, let alone carry pounds of produce.<br/>
"I do, I do understand." you sigh and carry the bags of food to the front of a trail where a barrel stands, and you begin the load to load the produce. Once the last of the bags are set, you grab your mother tightly, and you drink in her laugh, hoping it'll stay with you for the coming weeks.<br/>
"I'll be just alright, dear. Just make sure Lav doesn't eat any of my damn berries."</p><p>•••••••</p><p>Lav’s loud neighing woke you up as the sun was just starting to rise over your shack. You assumed it was just your old horse coming across some little rodent in the garden, and snuggled back into your blanket, thinking nothing of it. But her sounds got progressively louder and more shrill, and you sighed, ripping the blanket off of your body and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You glance in the mirror next to you to see your sheer pale nightgown outlining your body.  No one comes around even miles close to here, you thought. Shrugging, you make your way outside to the garden to see Lav and … nothing. Like you thought.<br/>
“What is it, girl? What’d you wake me up for?” you pet her brown mane, looking around to see if there was anything out there.<br/>
“You get scared so easy, Lav. Make no more noise, please, Lord knows I need the beauty sleep.”<br/>
You give her a few more head pats and yawn, turning around to walk back to your bed when you are met with two amber eyes looking at you.<br/>
It takes you a few moments to realize that there is an actual person, a massive one at that, staring at you with no expression on his face. Once your brain decides to work, you remember what you’re wearing and your hands immediately fly to cover your chest.<br/>
“I am - I didn’t know anyone was around here. I’m sure you’re just passing through, I’ll get out of your way,” your voice comes out much quicker and more child-like than you would’ve hoped, and you try to speedwalk past him. You only get maybe two steps in before a calloused hand grabs your arm, turning you back around to face him again, forcing you to get a good look at him.<br/>
Funnily enough, his amber eyes are the least striking thing about this stranger. His long locks are a dusty white shade, with a few sparse strands framing the front of his face. He’s wide,<em>( god why is he so wide?)<em>, and he easily has at least 6 inches on you. He has three or four fresh scars on his face, and what looks like the handle of a sword is peeking out from behind him. Your eyes fall down his heavily dressed chest only to see a large hole at the bottom, right above his pelvis. Your brows furrow, and you quickly realize that it is a knife wound, noticing the dark dried blood. Your heart stops and you run through all of the things your mother told you to do if a Nilfgaardian came to your home.<br/>
“Listen,” he says almost immediately after feelings your pulse quicken under his touch. “I am not here to hurt you. I am Geralt, of Rivia. I need attendance.” His voice is deep and ragged, with such a severe intensity that you hesitate to reply. He lets his grip loosen on your arm but still keeps it there, ghosting over you.<br/>
“Please, I will give you no trouble.”<br/>
“I don’t know, a wound of that caliber kind of indicates to me that there’d be a bit of trouble,” you joke, lightly gesturing to his abdomen with your free arm. He says nothing, his eyes scanning your face.<br/>
<em>Yeesh.<em> You haven’t seen another person other than your mother in years, but you didn’t think your jokes were <em>that<em> bad.<br/>
Once the silence begins to verge on uncomfortable, you slowly remove your arm from his grip and move back a bit, crossing your arms over your torso.<br/>
“I can try and help you, Geralt, but I’ve no magic nor any powers. I can possibly stitch that wound you’ve got and give you some fresh ale to help with the pain?” you propose, even though you had quite shoddy sewing skills. You swear you see his rock hard expression falter quickly, but it goes right back before you could figure out if it truly happened or not.<br/>
“I would appreciate that, uh…”<br/>
“Y/N, my name is Y/N, of, well formerly of Cintra,” you smile tightly, forcing those thoughts out of your head.<br/>
He simply <em>hmmed<em>, and you spot his eyes trailing down your collarbones to fall onto your chest. You feel the heat come onto your face and you turn around, trying to concentrate on anything except the amber of eyes of the stranger.<br/>
“Come inside. I’ll get changed quickly and then hopefully get you back to health, and on your way.”</em></em></em></em></em></em></em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
            <em>
              <em>
                <em>•••••••</em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em>
          <em>
            <em>
              <em>
                <em>He was bad at talking. Or rather, he just didn’t want to talk to you.<br/>
Once you two were inside, you tossed on a large tattered poncho over your nightgown and grabbed the old sewing kit on your nightstand, praying that you had the skills to hopefully help this man. He was sat on your bed, constantly fidgeting around to try and get comfortable.<br/>
“I know, it’s quite hard, isn’t it? I wake up feeling ten years older every night,” you look up to smile at him while you try and get the thread through your needle. It feels like hours pass before he says anything.<br/>
“I am used to discomfort.”<br/>
You try to rack your brain to think of what to say, because <em>who the hell says that<em>, but you come up short and decide to work on the pressing task at hand. As soon as you prepare the needles, you stand up and walk towards the back of your shack where all of your food and drink are stored, and grab the beer you and your mother made with the fresh grains.<br/>
“Here,” you hand it to him, ignoring the electricity that runs through your arm when his fingers brush against yours. “Hopefully this will help with the pain.”<br/>
He gives you another hmm and takes a large swig while you sit next to him, being extra cautious to make sure there is enough space between the two of you. He quickly finishes his drink with a sigh and places it on your nightstand, looking back at you with expecting eyes.<br/>
“I, um, need you to remove your dressings. For me to work, of course,” you sputter, mentally kicking yourself in the head.<br/>
You notice Geralt’s lips rise <em>oh so slightly<em> into a little smirk as you stuttered, and he wastes no time tossing his bag with his weapons onto the floor and then slowly removing the many articles of clothing on his torso. You feel an odd pull in the bottom of your stomach when you see his shirtless body, his arms veiny and riddled with scars, his chest muscular and equally as blemished. That same heat rises to your cheeks and you look down at his wound, wincing as you examine the gash.<br/>
“Lean back, please,” you murmur,cringing at how quiet you sound. “I can’t properly stitch you in this position.”<br/>
He obliges wordlessly as he splays his half-naked body onto your cot, closing his eyes. You realize how much effort you’re putting into just breathing, and you get to work on closing the wound, getting into a rhythm with your sewing. His abdomen clenches but he lets out no audible indication of pain, his mouth sealed in a tight frown.<br/>
“How did this happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”<br/>
“I do.”<br/>
Shocked at his rude candor, and embarrassed, you say nothing as you press your head down, hoping to make no further eye contact with him. He hisses as you work towards closing the largest part of the wound, and you thought of apologizing but decided against it due to his track record when it came to talking. You continue to stitch in silence until the wound was closed, and you sigh in relief as you looked at your finished work. Wasn’t great, but wasn’t going to kill him.<br/>
“It should heal soon, hopefully,” you stand up, moving to rub your hands on your thighs until you notice the bloodstains all over them. With a shiver, you grab a wet cloth and roughly scrub at hands. You couldn’t stand the smell of someone else’s blood any longer.<br/>
You hear a creak and turn around to see Geralt standing up with his clothing in his hand, and you immediately feel anger cloud your head.<br/>
“What the hell? You’re going to pull the stitches, you idiot,” you grab the clothes out of his hands and toss them back on the ground. “I did not just cover my hands in blood for God knows how long for you to mess up my work minutes after!” you exclaim, putting your hands on your hips. Geralt laughs in such a condescending way that you can’t even begin to hold back the fury in your voice.<br/>
“You asked me for help, remember? I should be hearing ‘Wow, thank you Y/N for helping me, a random stabbed stranger!’”<br/>
Geralt’s smile falls as he stares into your eyes, and you feel that same discomfort from when you first found him outside. He just did everything with such intent and passion that when it was directed at you, you felt like jumping out of your skin.<br/>
“Thank you, Y/N, for what you’ve done, but I will be fine. I must be on my way,” he grimaces as he takes a step, and you can almost feel the pain with him.<br/>
“Geralt, listen. I get it, you’re a strong guy,” you step in front of him and try and remove the anger from your voice. “But you’re going to need to relax for at least a day. Give the stitches some time to settle.”<br/>
“I’ve no place to stay. It’s just forest, for miles.”<br/>
“You can stay with me.”<br/>
The sentence leaves your mouth before you can even recognize what you’re saying. Geralt’s eyebrows raise and he tilts his head slightly, eyeing you as one would to a lost puppy. Any confidence you had immediately dissipates when you realize what you just suggested, and you open your mouth but nothing comes out.<br/>
“I mean, only if- if you’d like. If not, I’m sure you can make it to a town on foot by tomorrow. I’m sure your fast,” you finally choke out with a scratchy laugh, and you shut your eyes, wishing this entire situation would just disappear.<br/>
Geralt laughs again, but this time it’s much more earnest and kind of … adorable? Not that you should think of this strange man who’d been knifed and wandered through a forest as adorable, but he kind of was.<br/>
“Y/N, open your eyes,” he says, his voice surprisingly stern. You look up at him, preparing for another blunt response, but are met with much softer eyes.<br/>
“I wouldn’t wish to overstay my welcome.”<br/>
“You wouldn’t be,” you breathe, shyness creeping up under his gaze. “I- I would like for you to stay. Just so I can make sure the stitches are okay.”<br/>
You didn’t notice it until now, but Geralt’s fingertips were so lightly touching yours that there was almost no contact, but just close enough to get that same pull in the bottom of your stomach. You’d never felt anything like this before, and as much as it terrified you, you didn’t want it to end.<br/>
"Alright, then it's settled, Y/N. I'll stay."</em></em></em></em></em>
              </em>
            </em>
          </em>
        </em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You and Geralt get into a slight misunderstanding, and you lead him to the forest's river to take a bath.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt slept for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire</span>
  </em>
  <span> day and through the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You weren’t surprised, though. You assume that whatever fight he had gotten into, which he seems intent on not telling you about, must’ve been intense if they were able to get that good of a gash on him. So you let him rest. And, you weren’t averse to stealing a few glances of his bare chest rising while he slept on your cot. You spent the first day of his arrival tending to the garden and trying to ignore how your mother would feel about you housing a stranger in your shack. The guilt only increased when you slept on your mother’s cot, tossing and turning in your sleep as you remember all your mother told you about not letting anyone in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You woke up the next morning before him, and rushed to change out of your nightgown. You chose a linen white skirt that hit just above the knee and a long sleeve off the shoulder black sweater that was a bit too thin for the humid Spring weather, but you’d make do. As you take your hair out of your ponytail and attempt to tame it, you wonder why you’re putting so much effort into your appearance, since he’ll be gone tonight anyway. As you pass by his sleeping body, your eyes focus on the gray pendant around his neck and creep forward to try and get a better view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A wolf. Interesting.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>You jump when he shifts slightly and immediately move away, not looking to be caught in such a compromising position. As you clean through the cot, you try and rack your brain to see if you remember ever seeing that necklace when you were in Cintra. But, like most things, you simply cannot recall much of anything from your childhood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe it’s in the books.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After you glance over to make sure Geralt is still sound asleep, you tip-toe to the back of your shack where a large, old locked box resides. Your fingers toy with the lock and you make sure to get it just in that right position to…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You sigh in relief when you hear the quiet click of the lock opening. You lift the lid and remove the many tablecloths to find what you were looking for - the mangled brown leather journal with your father’s initials inscribed on the bottom of it. Your father, a sorcerer, compiled an anthology of all the monsters and non-humans that he came across, and it was the only thing of his that you and your mother still had. You trace the indentations with your finger, ignoring the heavy pull in your chest. You lock the box again and make your way to the main table, making sure to sit with your back to Geralt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It only takes a few moments of you thumbing through the yellowed pages of your father’s anthology to find that same design that’s on Geralt’s pendant, and the words above it scream at you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>WITCHER</b>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course. The secrecy, the wound, the swords, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hair</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You read through the paragraphs on the page that describe the process of becoming a Witcher, and the effects of it. You can’t tear your eyes off of the underlined portion at the bottom, describing how Witcher’s no longer feel emotions after they consume the mutagenic compounds and complete their grueling training. It doesn’t take a scientist to understand why your father wrote that. He thought Witcher’s were evil.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You immediately shut the notebook and launch out of your seat to see Geralt standing in front of you, his right eyebrow raised and his arms pressing folded over his chest, his biceps bulging underneath the pressure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, Geralt, you scared me,” you place your hand over your heart as you try and catch the breath that was shocked out of you. “I thought you were still asleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t. What are you doing?” he repeats, unrelenting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You quickly run through the possible outcomes of what could happen if you tell Geralt that you know he’s a Witcher. Surely, he wouldn’t wear his pendant if he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> intent on hiding his identity, right? But, then again, he could easily kill you if you try and be more invasive than you already have been. I mean, you <em>just</em> read about how Witcher’s are soulless monsters who only exist to take lives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You try to think of something, but you remember that you couldn’t lie to save your damn life. With a sigh, you pick up the notebook from the table and thumb through to find the page about Witchers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me you are a Witcher, Geralt?” you shove the notebook in front of you, and Geralt takes it from you, scanning the pages. You fumble with your hands, hoping Geralt didn’t notice how fake the confidence in your voice was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I assumed you already knew. Is it not quite obvious?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You scoff, surprised at how easy Geralt’s few words made you feel so naive and stupid. You snatch the notebook from his hand and brush past him, walking back towards the box. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could’ve at least told me,” you close the lock with more force than you mean to, eliciting a loud bang as it comes in contact with the aged wood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you so upset?” he asks, and the simpleness of his question makes you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> pissed for some reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” you retort, standing up and away from the chest. “I just wish you told me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you have not treated me? Had you known I was a Witcher?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You turn around sharply and don’t attempt to hide the confusion on your face. Geralt’s face was tight, the same it always was, but his voice was strained and his eyes were narrowed, the bright amber of his irises much more intimidating than they once were. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No, that’s not - that’s not what I meant. Geralt!” you call him after he walks away from you, grabbing his bag of weapons. He nearly makes it out of the shack completely until you yell his name again and he stops in his tracks. You flinch when he turns around to face you with one of the venomous expressions you’ve ever seen, his golden eyes boring into you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” he spits, his mouth in a snarl. “You read that book. That’s what you all think of me, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You can’t help the tears that begin to pool in your eyes at the venom in his words. No one has ever yelled at you - even when your mother scolds you, she never raises her voice even slightly. You hated that Geralt was so upset at you for something you didn’t even mean. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt, I promise you, that isn’t what I meant. I’m sorry,” you drop your head, sniffling. If he was going to leave, you wanted him to know you didn’t think anything lesser of him. You would never do anything like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hear the </span>
  <em>
    <span>clink</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the bag of metal hitting the floor and an exhale come from the man in front of you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop crying. Please,” he folds his arms over his chest, and you can’t tell if the statement comes from guilt or annoyance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I still would’ve treated you, Geralt,” you whisper, breaking the silence that had fallen. “I- I know what that feels like - to not be liked for something you can’t change. I’d never wish that feeling on my worst enemy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt says nothing, his eyes locked on yours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you wish to leave, I won’t stop you,” you empty your chest, trying to convince yourself that you’re okay with that. “But I want you to leave knowing that. I was just scared, I guess. I have not seen anyone in ages, let alone someone like you - but that isn’t a bad thing. Not to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt still doesn’t speak, but he tears his eyes off of you to sit down on your bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you upset with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he murmurs, wincing as he tries to move without tearing the stitches. “I’m not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” you move forward and crouch in front of him, picking up the bottom of his shirt so you can take a look at the stitches. You look up at him to make sure he’s okay with it, and you take his stoic expression as a yes. You see that the stitches are healing quite nicely, but you also notice the dirt and grime that has gathered around it and on the rest of his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When was the last time you bathed, Geralt?” you graze your fingers across his abdomen, cringing at the dirt that gathers under them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bathing is a luxury for me. I do it when I can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You kiss your teeth and stand up, shaking your head. “A luxury? Nonsense, it is integral. A basic human right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not exactly human am I?” Geralt counters, and you furrow your brows in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you are implying, Geralt of Rivia, that you do not need to bathe simply because you are a Witcher,” you pause to dramatically sniff him and make a sour face, “Then you are terribly, terribly mistaken.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, enough.” he waves you off as you snicker proudly at your joke. “There’s no bath in here anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know a place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>••••••</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You focus on the crunching of your feet on the leaves as you lead Geralt towards the river that you use to bathe. The moist dirt tickles your bare feet and you move the tall green weeds out of the way as you breathe in the fresh air, letting it fill your chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The air is so clean because of all the trees. I love going back here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” is the only response you get from the man behind you. You briefly look back at Geralt with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Such a man of few words,” you say after a few moments, your voice low. You’ve begun to not let the lack of detail from Geralt sting, since it seems that he won’t be opening up to you with his life story any time soon. In fact, you found an odd bit of comfort in his presence - somebody who doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with empty talk. So you accept it and make your way to the river with the quietude heavy between you.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though you’ve been to this river so many times, it never fails to take your breath away. The water is a remarkable pale blue color, and it’s so clean that the light reflecting off of it is almost blinding. Old, decaying logs are littered throughout the bank of the river, spotted with green moss. As you get to the end of the worn trail where the rocks leading to the body water begin, you look up at the blush pink early morning sky and bask in the soft hum of various insects. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Realizing that Geralt talked to you of his own volition and not just because you spoke to him., you feign surprise and look at Geralt with an exaggerated face of shock. “Wow, he speaks!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt rolls his eyes but you catch the smile on his face when he drops his head. A grin involuntarily makes its way onto your face, and you gesture towards the beautiful river.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, here it is. I’ll go back to the garden and come get you later, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not going to bathe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your cheeks and chest immediately get hot as you think of the idea of being so close to Geralt in such an intimate position with no clothes on, imagining the water droplets trailing down his chest and onto his-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You clear your throat and try to remember how words work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was, um, just going to bathe after you were finished. So, uh, yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t it just be quicker to bathe together? Wastes less time,” Geralt shrugs, placing his bag with his sword on the ground and reaching to pull off his shirt. “And I’m not sure of this road. Wouldn’t want to get lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh. I guess that makes sense.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, only if you’re okay with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I proposed it, why wouldn’t I be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not knowing what to say, you nod in agreement and watch him peel off the rest of his clothing. When he looks back at you, you don’t have a chance to explain why you were staring before he asks why you aren’t undressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, close your eyes, please,” you ask, toying with the waistband of your skirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt laughs, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>really fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>laughs, after you say that, but you can’t seem to find the humor in what you said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt. I’m serious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he says with a chuckle, making his way towards the river and, after testing the temperature with his foot, glides in with his back facing you. Relieved, you take off your top and skirt, deciding against removing your undergarments, which included your underwear and a light tank top. You’re suddenly very conscious of your body and the way that it looks - no one has ever seen you like this. You force the anxiety out of your head and join Geralt in the river, giving him permission to turn around once you’re submerged up until your shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you still got a shirt on?” he gestures towards the white strap that is peeking out from the water. “Is that not uncomfortable?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” you shut down any attempt at continuing that conversation, running your hands over your forearms to scrub off any potential gunk. The two of you naturally fell into another silence, enjoying the cool water as the sun started to rise, glaring down onto the river. The silence permeates for God knows how long until Geralt asks you a question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you mean earlier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” you turn at the sound of Geralt’s voice. “What are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you know what it feels like. To be judged.” Geralt moves closer to you, causing ripples in the water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” you sigh, mentally preparing yourself to tell a story you’ve never spoken about with anyone after it was relayed to you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My father,” you start after some moments, “He was a sorcerer - he was born with magic inside of him and had no proper training, but he was still incredible at his craft. Instead of working for the royal family, he decided to help the impoverished who lived near our home. He would heal them, mentally and physically, for quite little money. He took a few jobs under Queen Calanthe that granted him the coins to feed us, but that wasn’t where his heart was. He wasn’t interested in pointless politics,” your voice starts to break as you blink rapidly, attempting to keep it together. You notice Geralt’s expression soften, his jaw releasing from the clench it always seems to be in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And when Nilfgaard attacked, he didn’t fight. He stayed in burning buildings and ashy rubble, looking for anyone who needed help that wasn’t a priority to Cintra. And when he was found, he was trying to help a young girl whose leg had been caught under steel. He didn’t even flinch when he was struck, he just kept trying. He never stopped, never - it wasn’t in his blood,” your mouth opens to continue but nothing comes out except for a sob that racks your whole body. Your head falls in your hand and you cry and cry, forgetting that Geralt is standing in the water in front of you until you feel two large arms wrap around yours, enveloping you in a tight embrace. You stiffen instinctively at his tight grip, but let yourself melt into his arms and the water, grasping at his biceps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He sounds like he was a good man, Y/N. You should be proud,” he reassured you, releasing his tight grip and lazily running his hands up and down your forearms. You nodded, not wanting to remove your face from the crevice in Geralt’s neck</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand the - the pain of loss,” Geralt says quietly, and you look up, expecting to hear more. Yet you see Geralt staring out straight in front of him, his expression unreadable, and you know that’s all you can squeeze out of him. You're okay with that, though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I feel like I've cried more in the last few days than I have in years, Christ," you laugh, trying to wipe the tears off of your face but realizing the effort is futile as your soaked hands make your face even damper. </span>
</p>
<p><span>Geralt says nothing but he brushes his thumbs across on your arm, and you register that he's still so close to you. You tilt your head up to look at his face and y</span>our eyes fall on the red scar on his cheek, the skin around it slightly raised from the inflammation of the cut. You slowly bring your hand up to his face using your index finger to lightly ghost over the cut, tracing the shape. Geralt closes his eyes as you continue running your finger over the left side of his face until the pad of your finger gets to his jawline, and you pull your finger away to point the pad of your finger in Geralt’s face.</p>
<p>
  <span>“See?” you prompt with a smile, waiting for him to open his eyes. “All clean.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello all, thank you so much to the kind person who showed me how to double space, hopefully this is easier to read! I have already started the next chapter and it is going to be quite a long one, so I hope to get it out in about a week! Although my college classes do start next week, so forgive me if I post very randomly. Please comment and let me know if you did/didn't like this, and it's also posted on my tumblr @/friendlylocalwriter. Thank you all so much for reading &lt;33</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello all! i'm manipulating the timeline of the witcher (tv adaptation) a bit, but the main thing you need to know is that this is set after the Cintra is captured by Nilfgaard, and this is one of Geralt's little adventures between any other main plot points. Additionally, he already knows and has had relations with Yen and is friends with our good friend Jaskier! Hopefully nothing is too confusing, it won't get too heavy into the political plot of the Witcher anyhow. I hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment, they're what keep me goin! &lt;3<br/>this is also posted on my tumblr @friendlylocalwriter<br/>Also! if someone could teach little old me how to double space I would greatly appreciate it! lmao</p></blockquote></div></div>
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